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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22925860">Our Hearts, Your Hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whookami/pseuds/Whookami'>Whookami</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Insecurities, Monster Hunting Trio, Mysticism, Other, Steve Harrington-centric, stoncy, the nail-bat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:27:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22925860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whookami/pseuds/Whookami</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Things go badly for the Monster Hunting Trio late one night, putting all their lives in danger. Steve is determined to get his lovers out no matter what.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Our Hearts, Your Hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few blurry moments pass, muffled noise and darkness, and a thick cloying scent filling his senses. The last few <i>minutes? hours?</i> are missing. There’s pain lacing through his muscles and his bones protest against even the smallest movement. Oh well. He’s used to this sort of shit by now. Giving in is giving up, so Steve grits his teeth and forces himself into motion regardless. He blinks once, twice, and eventually his bleary eyes manage to focus on the night sky spread out above him. A wealth of stars are shining brightly, only marginally obscured by branches that are largely still winter-bare. It would be beautiful under ordinary circumstances, but it’s been a while since anything in Steve’s life could be considered <i>ordinary</i> He wipes the back of his arm across his face, his sleeve coming away smeared with blood and dirt. Fragments begin to drift back to him as he shakes off the cobwebs still lingering in his mind. He really needs to stop getting hit in the head so much. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>There was some...creature. Something new. Ooze and slime. Massive. The smell of decay enough to choke them as it howled from three separate throats.</p><p><br/>
</p><p><i>Do they fight to see which mouth eats each time, or do they share?</i> he laughs silently, bitterly. <i>It really hit the jackpot with us; One for each mouth. </i></p><p><br/>
</p><p>That’s just it, there’s three of them and only one of it. Steve had felt so confident they had had the advantage. He really should have learned by now that things were never that easy. Not in Hawkins. With his head finally feeling a little clearer, a little less like it’s about to crack open and spill out what little brains his skull houses, Steve comes to a sobering realization. He’s alone at the moment. What happened to his partners? Steve casts a furtive glance around the clearing, trying to penetrate the thick darkness. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>The fight had gone wrong almost from the beginning. The monster had been mostly submerged deep in the muck, concealing it’s true girth until they were already easily within it’s strike zone. It had erupted from the ground wreathed by a mass of flailing limbs, lashing and grasping and reaching towards the startled teens. Where Jonathan might’ve wound up Steve has little clue, his bearings disoriented from being struck in the head. He vaguely remembers the creature tossing Jon away with one thick appendage, like a rag doll. The strength of the monster had made it look so effortless, almost negligent as Jon sailed through the air. He hadn’t heard the other boy make any noise since the deafening crash of his impact against the roots of an ancient elm. Steve refuses to give himself time to think about that now. Giving into panic won’t save Jonathan, so it’s forced out. He focuses on remembering. Steve had tried to retaliate with his nail-bat even as Nancy had aimed her shotgun and begun to fire with deadly accuracy. Though the creature looked soft, the limb that struck Steve felt like being hit by a freight train, and blackness overtook him before he had even hit the dirt. What had happened to Nancy since then? How much time had even passed as he lay dazed on the marshy forest floor? He needed to locate Nance, and fast. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Steve’s limbs aren’t cooperating with him as he tries to push up from the ground. His hands squelch and slide in the muddy earth and he flops back uselessly as a tearing pain ripples through his chest. Faceplanting back into the ground doesn’t help much with that. He bites back the groan on his lips and struggles to get his bearings. He’s uncomfortably familiar with what broken ribs feel like, and Steve’s fought through it before. Worrying about whether or not he’s finally punctured a lung is another matter that can wait until later to be addressed. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Sweating despite the chill still riding the early spring air, Steve manages to get his forearms beneath him and prop his torso up despite the way every movement radiates painfully throughout his whole body. The creature is across the clearing now, all writhing tentacles and thick jelly limbs. It has no eyes, just those three portals that gape open on what Steve assumes is it’s face, each a long dark cavern with scores of teeth leading down deep into it’s massive body. It’s attention is rapt and it’s wriggling excitedly, and Steve can just barely make out why. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Nancy, beautiful and fierce, is facing down the creature from within a tree. The grasping tentacles are getting caught on branches and the few early buds of leaves that have begun to sprout. It’s formed a sort of natural armour for her, but Steve can see with each minute the branches are getting stripped away, thrashing limbs uncaring about the damage they’re sustaining. She’s going to run out of cover, and soon.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Shifting as slowly and silently as he can, Steve manages to prop himself against the base of the nearest tree, another thick elm, and begins to hoist himself to his feet. The bark scrapes half the skin from his hands as his short nails claw for purchase. He’s bitten his lip so hard he can feel blood oozing down his chin. He allows himself a count of five, panting roughly into his ruined palms to muffle the sound. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Nancy makes a short shrill cry, more startled than afraid, but it sends Steve’s heart into overdrive. The monster has one tentacle lashed around the branch that Nancy’s perched on. Steve can make out her motions as she beats desperately to dislodge it, but the thick rubbery skin is ridiculously durable. Another angry cry and she makes a dangerous choice, leaping to a different branch and managing to hook on with both arms and a leg. It leaves her vulnerable as she struggles to right herself. If he was panting before, well, now Steve can’t even breathe. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>A rock flies out of the darkness and rebounds high into the air after connecting with the monster’s...shoulder? Does a thing with that many limbs have proper shoulders? It’s appendages just seem to jut out of it’s massive trunk at random angles, no rhyme or reason to their placement. Steve finally glances Jonathan in the shadows of the clearing, kneeling deep in mud and looking like the dead come back to life. Steve’s heart flutters with relief upon seeing him. He has another rock clutched in one grimy fist, but that’s all. He tried to get the monster’s attention to give Nancy time to recover without any thought of his own safety. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>A familiar surge of love fills Steve’s chest, drowning out the pains and aches and tiredness that threaten to collapse him. He would do anything for either of these people, give even his life for them, knows they would do the same for each other. He won’t allow that, though. It’s the thought that counts. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Steve doesn’t have much time to think as the monster only hesitates briefly, realizing that Jonathan is now the easier prey. Nancy’s too smart, too determined. She’s not a victim, she’s another predator. It’s obvious even to a nonsensical slime monster from another dimension. Steve is so fucking proud of her and in love with her he honestly isn’t sure how his heart has room for the emotions these two people elicit in him. With that warmth suffusing his entire body Steve shakes off any doubts or fears and charges towards the monster at top speed. A fierce battle cry punches its way out of him as his feet squelch rapidly through the mud. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Steve! Bat!” Nancy screams over top of him, now settled on a more sturdy branch and pointing frantically to his left. He doesn’t think, just swerves in that direction and scoops up his nail-bat in one smooth motion, momentum never lessening. The grip feels good in his hand. Familiar, like an old friend. It’s more an extension of his body than a weapon or a tool. He has no time to plant himself and ready a proper swing, just launches himself at the creature lumbering towards Jonathan. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>The bat hits the broad plain of the creature with a satisfying <b>thwack!</b> sound, and Steve feels the shockwave ripple back through his arms. When he wrests the bat free from out of it’s flesh there’s barely a dent. A few shallow holes dot the thick hide, but not much else. His second hit has more strength behind it, proper form turning into raw power as he channels the weight of his whole body into the swing. It connects in the same place but there isn’t much difference from before. The wounds don’t even slow the monster down. He strikes again and again, trying to make some kind of lasting impression. Aside from the way the holes left by his bat leak a dull murky fluid, he sees no sign his efforts are doing anything to damage it. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Nancy had slipped down from her tree at some point while Steve was otherwise occupied, and he can just make out the way she slings Jonathan’s arm over her shoulder, helping him to stand. His one foot seems bent awkwardly and Steve grimly realizes that running is not going to be an option. He catches Nancy’s glance between wild swings, from both his bat and the monster’s arms. He sees fear and pain and most of all a deep seething anger. He nods once in recognition, silently willing her to take Jonathan and get the hell out of here. Steve knows that he can only buy them so much time to escape, and with Jonathan’s likely broken ankle, they’ll need every second they can get. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Hey, Fuckface!” He hollers madly,<br/>
Sidestepping until he thinks the creature’s back is more or less to his lovers. His attacks have managed to capture all the creature’s attention, and he needs it to stay that way. “Can’t do any better than this? I had tougher workouts in <i>elementary</i> school!” It’s really the noise that matters, but the former bully in Steve naturally defaults to taunts, not exactly certain how much monsters from the Upside Down actually understand. The Mind Flayer was capable of communication, but did it learn that from Will, or was it just an innate ability? Dustin would probably find the topic fascinating to try and unravel, but for Steve it’s just an errant thought, shrugged off almost as soon as it appeared. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Minutes pass as Steve heckles the monster, peppering in a few hasty swings when he has enough of an opening. Mostly he’s trying to dodge, but he’s caught more than a few tentacles and his body is giving in. Everything aches and his mouth is tangy with blood. His shoulders protest each time he tries to lift the nail-bat. There’s almost no force to his hits anymore, they just glance off the jelly-like hide and skitter away harmlessly. He should try to run, but he already knows he won’t last long before his well of stamina finally runs dry. If he heads in the opposite direction from his partners maybe he can earn them some extra distance to get away safely. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Steve’s about to turn tail and make a break for the tree line when a volley of rocks thump against the monster and it begins to shuffle it’s bulk around in the direction of the new threat. Feeling his lowest, Steve looks over grimly and sees Nancy and Jonathan standing about fifty feet away, a coat topped by a pile of medium sized rocks on the ground between them. They also have a couple of branches, but considering the thing’s taken at least twenty good hits, and uncountable minor swipes, from the nail-bat, their petty supply of makeshift weaponry is laughable. He feels so tired, his body is a million pounds and every movement is a sharp stab of agony. He would endure these feelings forever if only the two people ahead of him had done the smart thing and run for it. The light in both their eyes is steely and relentless. It speaks of their refusal to leave Steve behind to sacrifice himself for their sakes. He wishes he could feel love or affection for them at the thought, but a childish anger wells up. Can’t they see he did this for them? That he doesn’t care what happens to himself as long as they’re out there to keep going, keep living, like he wants them to? Some day they’ll be able to get the hell out of Hawkins and leave this all behind. Steve wants that for them so much that it makes his bones ache. They have futures, ones that Steve would gladly buy for them with his life. He appreciates their gestures, their own devotion and willingness to put themselves in the line of fire to save each other but in the face of this level of danger, this unmistakable a threat, they aren’t supposed to turn stupid on him like this! He wants to yell, to wave his arms around madly and chastise them for wasting their chance. Don’t they understand how much he <i>loves</i> them? How the only thing that keeps him sane on the nights that he’s forced to spend alone is knowing they’re out there and they’re okay?</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Steve’s hands twist on the bat’s grip, the blood of his palms long since turned tacky against the wood. This is all he can give them, his life and this bat, his love and protection, until they make it out and don’t need him anymore. He doesn’t know what else he can do, thinking isn’t his strong point, and strategy is beyond him unless he’s on the court or the field. He can’t just let this happen though, can’t stand here dumbly while the monster sets them in it’s figurative sight. Why would they do this? He isn’t the important one, he’s just the muscle, and he’s not even terribly good at that either. He just loves them both enough to try, enough to promise himself he’ll do anything to never let them down, never let them hurt. Steve is familiar with pain, with being alone. He can shoulder it for the three of them. It’s not that he’s all that eager to throw himself away, it’s not like he has a <i>death wish</i> or anything. He’s just....not sure how he fits in. Not sure he even will, once Nancy and Jon are off to college and Hawkins will be no more than a bad dream that exists only in their pasts. Steve’s afraid. He doesn’t want to go back to how things were before, doesn’t know if he can keep putting on his plastic smile each morning and act like his heart isn’t gone, along with the two people he’s given it to. He’s afraid and selfish and doesn’t want to be alone anymore, doesn’t want to be left behind, but he doesn’t—</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Steve is jarred physically from his rapidly spiralling thoughts, from the doubts and fears that pull constantly at him like an undertow. Something strange is happening, something he can’t even begin describe, that blocks out everything but it’s own urgent need. A faint vibration pulses up his forearms, soothing and warm. Steve glances down at his hands, wrapped tight together on the bat in the grip his coaches ingrained in him. A pulse unfurls again, a rippling heat radiating from his ruined palms up into the core of his body. It’s like a warm wave lapping slowly over him, <i>through him</i> and Steve stares at the weapon he holds in dumbstruck wonder. He can see every fibre of the grain, the natural lines of the wood in perfect detail. It’s like the bat is lit from within, soft white and thrumming like a heart as he holds it tight. The sound of it fills his senses and he relaxes into it’s siren call. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>In a sleepwalker’s trance, Steve begins to approach the creature from behind. Nancy and Jon have been carefully retreating, drawing the monster away towards the shadows of the tree line. It’s too bulky to move quickly, and that’s been their only saving grace so far. With practiced ease Steve sets into his stance, working his feet into the swampy soil until he’s comfortable. A lazy smile tugs at his lips and he feels almost peaceful as he readies himself. The creature isn’t paying him any mind, still focused on the incoming rocks. The pile has dwindled to almost nothing, but he isn’t particularly concerned. He’s got this. Inhaling deeply, Steve brings the bat over his shoulder and with all his strength he swings for the bleachers. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>The monster’s hide tears away with a moist sucking noise. The bat rends easily through it’s strange flesh leaving a wide channel of filth and ooze in it’s wake. Light dances along the bat’s length like a wreath, and where it touches the monster the skin smokes and sizzles. Steve doesn’t understand the hows or the whys of what’s happening, he doesn’t even give it a thought. He strikes again and again, ripping gaping holes and freeing gobs of meat each time he swings. He can turn this event over to the kids to figure out later. It’s more their thing, and Steve doesn’t care, so long as something is finally working. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Mounds of jelly and limbs are torn and lost as the creature shrieks in pain and fury. It tries to pull away, using what limbs it still has to propel itself forward, but the huge beast is too slow, even for a trio of seriously injured high schoolers. Jonathan and Nancy stand at his shoulders now, their faces lit with wonder and a fierce brand of joy. The looks they cast him are filled with a sort of awe that makes his heart stutter a moment, but he can’t really afford to get distracted now. Not when they’re about to win this. Steve can hear their words of encouragement, viscerally feel the love pouring off of them as he stands over the sluggishly squirming monster. With one final overhead swing he plants the bat firmly into the spot between it’s three mouths. It spasms below him once before going still, flesh dissolving into a pungent ichor that seeps out to mix with the mud. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>The bat tumbles to the ground from fingers gone suddenly numb, and Steve falls on his ass beside it, his body completely drained like never before. Nance and Jon are at his side in less than a second, wrapped tightly around him and each other in a smothering embrace. Nancy is nuzzling his hair as she wipes exhausted tears from his face and Jonathan is whispering furiously in his ear, the endearments rapid fire and overwhelming. He isn’t sure how much time passes like that, completely wrapped up in their love, in the comfort that only comes from being with the two of them. Steve’s vaguely aware they’re talking louder now, maybe to him, maybe not. He can’t parse any of it. He lets his eyes flutter closed as Jonathan takes on the bulk of Steve’s weight. Nancy is disappearing off elsewhere in the clearing, he can hear her quick steps sinking in the sodden ground. She returns moments later and he listens absently to the sound of their radio buzzing with noise and static before she speaks quietly into it. They’d lost their bag of supplies and tools somewhere near the start of the fight, it was a miracle that the walkie-talkie had even survived intact. Then again, Steve had been part of a very real miracle himself tonight. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Bat?” He asks hoarsely, and winces as he’s shuffled about in strong arms. The grip is placed in one of his open palms and he smiles gratefully. He closes his fingers over it slowly, but all he feels is the familiar wood, fitting perfectly in his hand like it was a part of him. But was it really? Nancy had supplied the bat, and Jonathan had driven in the nails. All Steve did was pick it up and put it to use. The bat was an extension of the three of them, of their bond together.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>He absently listens as Nancy informs them that Hop and the calvary were on their way, that they’d be here soon. That was good enough for Steve. He let the exhaustion and numbness draw away his consciousness, pulling up his arm so the bat’s grip was right over his heart. He was safe and he was loved. If a magic bat seemed to think that Steve should be fighting to <i>live</i> to be with the ones he loved, rather than throwing himself away, who was he to argue? A satisfied smile stretching his lips, Steve fell asleep covered in mud and monster goo in the middle of the woods. Cradled in the arms of the two he loved the most in the world he had never felt better.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is oddly enough inspired by <a> In A Strange Land </a> by MrsEvadneCake. In her work the nail-bat has this near talismanic property and I could write a paper about it’s symbolism as it relates to Steve’s journey and personal growth. One lazy morning though I idly was thinking what if the bat really was a talisman, and this pretty much wrote itself over the next two hours.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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